


Tumblr Followers Drabble Extravaganza

by Galahard



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drabbles, Gen, M/M, Other, See Chapter Notes for warnings/ratings!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galahard/pseuds/Galahard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a collection of drabbles written to celebrate 3k followers on Tumblr. The notes at the beginning of each chapter will have the prompt AND the rating/warnings, so please pay attention!</p><p>4k drabbles start with chapter 7!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disney Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> Captain-tightpants: Hartwin with daisy, Disney movie night 
> 
> Established Hartwin (not a huge factor) and rated for general audiences!
> 
> Btw in case you don't know, I'm Galahard on tumblr too!

Eggsy’s hand is on his gun the moment he hears the doorknob jostle, and while at a quick glance it looks like Harry is absentmindedly filling out a sudoku box he can see that his watch is aimed perfectly toward the door, set to stun. It’s the clumsy way that the key is shoved in the lock, accented with loud swearing, that causes him to relax.

Not completely, and he can see Harry is on the same page as him. It’s a Friday night. Daisy is always out with her mates on Friday night, and they normally just have her over on Wednesday evenings, when they’re not on call.

“If you was home why didn’t you fucking unlock the door?” is how she greets him, all brass and bold, and he knows that mask far too well. Grew up with it. Covering up fear and hurt with anger and pride. 

Harry’s the calm one, voice neutral as he doesn’t even look up from his sudoku. “Because you have a fucking key.”

She tries to glower but can’t, delight at hearing Harry swear dancing in her eyes, and Eggsy agrees with her. It’s a wonderful thing to hear. One of the many reasons he appreciates Harry’s mouth.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, knowing that asking her how she’s feeling or if she’s okay will just cause her to be more defensive, addressing her bluntly instead, because she’s far too much like him as she sits down on the couch, swinging her feet up to rest on the coffee table. He can’t even complain because they’re right next to his.

“Movie night.”

Movie night is code. Movie night is “I don’t want to talk about it but I want company.” Movie night’s how they introduced Harry to her, slow to get her used to him, and that was over a decade ago. Fuck he’s old. Movie night’s safe.

But he has to grin. “You remember it’s Harry’s turn to choose, right?” Harry likes foreign films, films with purpose, and movies from well before Eggsy was born. Often before even Harry was born. Or at least, that was what he liked when he could make other people watch them with him. On his own Eggsy more often than not caught him watching spy and action films, critiquing the fight choreography and snorting in derision. Harry only let him start watching those with him when he’d started pointing out flaws himself, and then suggesting they could try out some of the moves.

Daisy had apparently forgotten, groaning helplessly, because it didn’t matter if you had a shit day. Turns were turns, and no one went out of order. “Nothing with bloody subtitles,” she pleaded, and Harry just smirked as he reached for the iPad to pull something up on the telly.

There was no telling which of them were more surprised when the movie started, bright animated colors as big, muscular men started singing and sawing into the ice. Frozen had always been Daisy’s favorite, even though she was at the point in her life where she’d never admit to dressing up like Anna and forcing Eggsy to be Sven, galloping her across the ice. Cheerfully calling JB Olaf until the bugger actually answered to it.

She sang under her breath through the movie, and more than once he looked over to catch Harry’s eyes, smiling and mouthing thank you. As the credits rolled Harry got up to put the kettle on, leaving them alone with the music softly playing. “Anyone I need to take care of?” He asked voice quiet, and he knew she’d understand. She’d probably known this was coming.

“Course not. Aunt Roxy taught me the best way to put a bastard in his place, and he won’t be sitting right in class Monday.”

She didn’t seem upset anymore and he smiled, moving his hand to mess up her hair and earning himself a glower and a slap. “You’re doing my job for me,” he groused. Then he leaned over, whispering conspiratorially. “Want to stay for a double feature? It’s my turn, and I’ll make Harry sit through Toy Story.”

“He hates Sid,” she said, a grin stretching across her face. "Fuck yeah.”


	2. To the Moon and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plinys: i went over to a random word generator for these, so they're kinda awful oops, but - holiday, cactus, and space. oh and uh harry and eggsy, yeah?
> 
> Hartwin (Teen and up, sappy with a dash of feels)

He was aching and sore, shoulders protesting as he stressed and honestly? He didn’t want to think about sitting on a plane for hours. Of course part of that was due to the fact that he didn’t want to go back. Their holiday had been fucking brilliant, and he was starting to get why Percival had taken him aside and earnestly told him he thought it was a mistake. That it would be safer to enjoy a trip on his own and focus on his family.

On people young enough that they might still be alive when, and if, he made it back.

But he also couldn’t imagine changing a thing as he turned to in time to see a shaft of sunlight shift onto Harry’s eyes, causing the closed lids to tighten as he grumbled and rolled, burying his face against Eggsy’s thigh.

Yeah, he wouldn’t change a fucking thing.

\----------

“It looks like it’s alive.” Harry was staring at the pot in his hands with trepidation, and Eggsy snorted while shoving it at him, forcing him to take it or let it fall.

“Of course it’s living. But it’s supposed to be hard enough to kill that even you have a 50-50 shot of it surviving. Plus, it’ll remind you of me and shit.”

“Because you’re a pain in the arse?” Harry hazarded as he looked down at the cactus.

“Never as much as you are,” Eggsy responded, laughter in his voice. “Didn’t know I’d land myself a grower AND a show-er.” 

“Brat,” Harry grumbled, but even then his voice was fond.

\----------

5........4........3........2........1

Eggsy felt himself relax for the first time all morning as the engines forced them away from the ground, trusting himself to the science at work around him.

The first man to leave their galaxy.

Well, one of the first. Technically the whole team would leave at the same time, and wherever they landed it was almost guaranteed that their leader would be the first to actually walk on the ground. If the place even had ground. Roxy deserved it though.

“Lancelot, report,” crackled over the speakers, and the woman he was thinking about began to respond, rattling off figures and statistics as he made sure the craft stayed on track. The radio had gone quiet before there was a voice in his own helmet. A private call.

“How’s the view up there, Galahad?”

“Fucking gorgeous Arthur. Second best sight I’ve seen all day. Liked the moon I woke up to though.”

“Eggsy,” Harry responded, sounding entirely exasperated, and Eggsy had to smile, blinking to keep his eyes clear as he focused on the path ahead.

“I fucking love you, Harry Hart.”

“To the moon and back?”

“To the moon and beyond.”


	3. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Percival and [James] Lancelot. overplayed and overproduced pop music [like uptown funk things]
> 
> Percilot and General Audiences

Percival knew his form was perfect. There was a pleasant burn in his legs and chest, and tomorrow he’d wake with a pleasant ache before he stretched began anew.

Running grounded him. It started his morning with purpose. It was steady. Pavement under his feet, wind in his hair, and honestly he didn’t care where he went. That was just a detail. All that mattered was that his headphones cancelled out everything around him, he could feel his heart beating and sending blood coursing through his body, and he could stay focused for the rest of the day, no matter what was thrown at him.

What he couldn’t handle was something being thrown at him _on_ his run. 

He was too well trained not to notice someone coming up on him, trying to catch up, and a quick peek out of the corner of his eye confirmed something horrific. Something he’d never even contemplated on his list of worst nightmares.

James running up beside him. Finding him while he was on a run. 

A run in worn sweats that had holes and bald patches, sweat soaking through a shirt that was ridiculously tight. So he did the only natural thing, speeding up, trying to shake his tail as he took increasingly ridiculous turns. He was fast, and yet somehow, somehow James was just as fast. Faster even as he pulled up to his side.

Glancing to the side he could see lips moving, but he couldn’t hear him. Thank God.

He dodged when the man reached out, managing to stop him from grabbing his headphones, but then James’ fingers were tangling with the cord, yanking the headset half off his ears as the cord came free from his phone.

Instead of doing what it was supposed to, which was _stop playing_ it just kept going, at full blast while he stumbled to a stop, scrambling to turn the damn thing off.

_But here’s my number, so call me maybe._

There was silence, dead silence, but when he finally got the blasted thing to shut up and looked up it was to a delighted grin.

“Not a word,” he said quickly, hoping to nip whatever thought was doubtlessly racing through James’ mind in the bud, and the other agent just shook his head.

“It’s going to cost you.” The look in his eye was all Lancelot, so at least he realized he was playing with fire when he offered the threat.

“What do you want,” he snapped, plugging his headphones back in to trying to keep his hands busy at least.

“Hey, I just met you, there’s not reason to act like this.” The smirk on his face said that he knew exactly what he was doing, but Percival was more concerned with the pen he was uncapping with his teeth. “Hand.”

Gritting his teeth he stuck out his hand. “Whatever you’re thinking I don’t actually care about this as much as you probably think I do.”

“Surely you don’t think I’m going to take advantage of your situation,” Lancelot said, voice dripping innocence and his eyes denying every drop. “But I actually have somewhere to be, I do have a job after all.”

Shockingly enough he actually turned and started jogging off, and after a second Percival left in the other direction. He made it a block before curiosity got the better of him, glancing down at his hand. Numbers. A childish scrawl underneath.

Call me? Maybe?

Of course underneath that was a quick drawing of a penis, and Percival rolled his eyes, rubbing his hand on his sweats to smear the ink and refusing to think about how he’d already memorized the number.


	4. Strawberry Scones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuki-nekota: Harry/Eggsy + Photos + Youth + Cookies :D
> 
> Hartwin, teen and up

“How fucking long were you going to keep this from me?”

Eggsy’s voice was taut, and when Harry looked up it was with a mild amount of surprise. He couldn’t think of anything in particular he was keeping from Eggsy. The normal things of course, classified information that he wasn’t allowed to share, but they’d both agreed long ago that they weren’t going to consider those as secrets. They were professionals after all.

“And what is this?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.

“This.” Eggsy was shoving one of his photo albums in his face, far too close to actually see properly. 

“I’d hardly call it hidden when the album was in plain view in the parlor.”

Eggsy scowled. “Are you purposefully being fucking obtuse? Is that what this is? Not the damn album, this clipping.” His voice took on a mocking tone as he read.

“Child prodigy Harold Hart takes home the children’s baking championship for the second time. The judges were astounded by the array of biscuits and cakes offered, and more than one ruefully admitted to gaining weight from visiting his table multiple times to re-sample the treats.”

“I didn’t realize you’d mind,” Harry said, frowning slightly.

“Mind? Of course I mind! We was dating for over a year and you never once thought it would be bloody important to say ‘by the way Eggsy, I’m a champion baker and can probably make you come in your pants like a teenager without even touching you.’ That thought never crossed your fucking mind?!” 

Harry blinked, staring at him before a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Well it has now. I think I have the ingredients for strawberry scones.”

He watched as Eggsy’s mouth dropped open in shock, lips parted slightly and they were lips he had plans for later on. Better plans than listening to him whine about lost time. “Well? Want to come watch?”


	5. Sleep is for the Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((I apologize what am I even doing))
> 
> MisterHawkeye: Roxlin where Roxy is not a morning person, but Merlin is.
> 
> Roxlin, teen and up (for implications and such)

“I don’t know how he does it.” Roxy is staring at her drink as if it’s grown an eyeball since she ordered it, and Eggsy reached over gingerly to awkwardly pat her back.

This is new. Roxy breaking down in a bar is new. Roxy breaking down at all is new.

“He’s just so fucking chipper all the time. Always a smartass. I go to sleep and he’s still up finishing up last minute flight plans for Percival. I wake up and breakfast is on the table and he’s just easing me awake by wafting coffee toward me. He’s already showered, dressed, and as soon as he’s sure I’m not just going to bury myself back into the covers and never come out he’s off to work. I don’t get it.” She slammed a fist down on the bar and half the people still there jump, the bartender giving them a concerned look. “I just don’t get it.”

“You don’t sleep a long time,” he mutters aloud, remembering their academy days and missions they’ve gone on together. “Don’t remember you ever hitting a eight hours.”

“I don’t! Five or six a night, at the most seven. And yet he’s awake every night when I go to sleep, he’s up early every day I get up, and if I have a mission and have to leave for the airport by four? He’s up, has breakfast packed for me, and is alert enough to drive and drop me off.”

Her voice lowered and she glanced around.

“I think he’s got a clone. Or maybe he’s a vampire and doesn’t to sleep. Have you ever seen him in sunlight?”

“There were all those days with the dogs,” he mentioned, cautiously reaching out and shifting her drink away from her.

\---------

“Morning Starshine.”

Roxy groaned, rolling away from the light and burying herself back into the pillow, not even caring if her hair looked like shit or she’d just rolled into what felt suspiciously like a puddle of drool.

There was a light chuckle and a hand sweeping her hair aside, lips pressing to the back of her neck. “You’re going to Barcelona today. The weather’s going to be 24 and this mission’s a cakewalk. You can have paella and be back by nightfall.”

She wished Eggsy was here to see how disgusting this all was. No one should be that alert at 3:45.

No one.

\---------

_Found: 1 nest in HQ_

The text didn’t make any sense, nor did the image that quickly followed. It looked like...well it looked like a large dog bed under a desk actually.

_Do you need to see Dr. Morgana again?_

_Sending feed via secure line. Check back every 15 min. Trust me, you’ll want to see this for yourself._

That was how she found herself checking her phone in the park, waiting for her mark to appear after their dance lesson in another thirty minutes, watching with her mouth hanging wide open as Merlin took a twenty minute power nap under his desk. When he came back on the headset he acted as if nothing had happened, reporting no movement from her target.

She waited until after her mission to turn off the feed to Merlin and find the shop she was looking for.

\---------

The hardest part about leaving a gift to be found and then just waiting for the person to find it was, obviously, the wait. Merlin slipped into his private office, the one he used less frequently, and locked the door, and she watched as he started to crawl into his nest only to find a box in his way. He froze, and then must have recognized her handwriting, lifting the card carefully.

_Eldrid was wondering where his bed had gone. I thought we might enjoy the full package._

Merlin’s brows creased and then he was hesitantly undoing the ribbon and opening the box.

He lifted the supple leather collar out gingerly, as if he was afraid it was going to bite, and she worried her lip as light glinted off the personalized tag and he got out his phone.

_I’m not going to obedience classes._

_I’m sure we can find some other use then._ She shot back quickly. 

There was a long pause as Merlin wrapped the present back up, stashing it in his desk and then seemingly ignoring his phone and she was about to go down there to make sure everything was okay between them when her phone finally buzzed again.

_Tonight. After dinner. You’re doing the dishes._


	6. Four combs and two brushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: so basically Roxy's parents are dead and percival is given guardianship. He's doesn't know anything about children or what to do with them, and James steps in and helps. (Doesn't really stick to the parameters of drabble prompts but I went with it because it's a cute idea)
> 
> Slight Percilot, general audiences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to write more drabbles tonight but...I started the next chapter of Bon Appetit instead. I'm not done with drabbles yet though so I might just turn this into a week long thing on and off. The major downside to this one was that I dozed off halfway through QQ Bed time for me!

Inheriting a seven year old was trying. It’s not that she was a bad seven year old, and thank god she wasn’t a perfect little doll. No, by the time Roxy had shown up with the lawyer (complete with her suitcase and a ratty stuffed dog that he’d given her for her first birthday) Roxy had faced enough in her short life to be her own self. 

She was quiet until she got to know people, hesitant to trust in case they abandoned her, but she was sure of herself. She brushed her own teeth, got out her own outfits (and after the first time of telling her that maybe fuchsia with red he’d learned to just stay out of it), and got out her own cereal. She liked being neat, liked being on time, and most of the day time it almost felt like he had a talking dog or miniature adult around.

But anywhere from five to sixty minutes a day his flat was filled with enough screaming, crying, and glass shattering that they’d had two official complaints filed on them in a month, and one threat to call the police.

Because Roxy, after all, was only seven. A seven year old with long, thick hair that refused to cut it off because her mum had told her how pretty it was the morning before the accident.

He didn’t blame her, but the truth of the matter was that between them they’d busted four combs and two brushes, not to mention the casualties of no less than seventeen hairbands. Each day her hair grew closer to a nest than the day before, and when he’d went to pick her up from school the day before it was to see kids trying to poke feathers in her hair before she turned on her heel and socked one in the nose.

Naturally he’d brought her home and taught her how to curl her fist properly, but he was at a loss.

He was standing outside her room, armed with a handful of hair ties, a headband, and both a comb AND a brush, trying to steady himself, when James turned into the hallway. “You about ready? I’m starving.” 

“You’re always starving,” he replied quickly, not worried in the least about the other man who had invited himself over the first place (he would forever regret giving him a key for dog-sitting purposes).

“But I really might actually starve this time!” 

“Whining isn’t attractive,” he grumbled, and all he got from James was an amused snort. He ignored it, taking a final deep breath and setting his shoulders to walk in when his valuable attention was demanded.

“Heading in for war I take it?”

He made a mental note to switch all the coffee out with decaf if they ever had a stakeout together again. 

Something in his face must have told, because after a moment there was a simple, quiet (for James) “Stay right there.” and when he came back of all things the man was lugging around the vacuum. “I got this is.”

Percival stood, jaw slack as he watched in amazement while James worked a brush up through Roxy’s hair (who knew you started at the bottom). Then he let her pick her hair ties, getting her to help him slide them over the hose of the contraption, and then telling her to face forward.

He watched in amazement as he once again started at the bottom, letting the hair travel down the hose of the vacuum until the tip was against her head, then he slipped off the hair ties and turned off the vacuum.

Instant ponytail.

Roxy was beaming, grateful to have her hair done properly for the first time in a month, laughing at as James imitated a cow, then a lamb, an actual smile wreathing her face as Percival turned to get go fetch her coat. 

She was putting it on (by herself of course) when he caught James arm, leaning up to whisper into his ear. “Tuesday night. I’ll get a sitter and we’ll do this properly.”

Tuesday night they get a call at the restaurant halfway through dinner that his sitter just left Roxy alone, his god-daughter’s tiny voice on the phone sounding frightened as she tried to seem brave, and they never made it to the main course.

It’s the fact that James doesn’t even complain, just goes home with him and instead of leaving him on the doorstep goes in and invites Roxy to a tea party, dressing up himself when she’s too hesitant to do so, that makes Percival realize that maybe this has already gone farther than he meant it to.

Seeing James heap spoon after spoon of sugar in Roxy’s cup until it’s flooded over onto the saucer, sending the girl into shrieks of laughter with tear marks still evident on his cheeks, is what makes him realize that he’s completely okay with that.

When he sits down next to them, tiara in his hair and fairy wings strapped onto his back, the shocked look that fades into fondness he gets from James tells him that the other man’s pretty okay with that too.


	7. Hartwin, “No,” Daisy, JB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4k prompt for raychdzeros

He didn’t really want a big affair for their wedding. Honestly he was pretty sure a courthouse wedding would be ideal, and he was pretty sure Harry felt the same way, but as soon as his mum had seen the ring the plans had began.

At least she wasn’t a complete monster about it. She was content with something simple, but he knew the ceremony was really for her. And hey, if he got to see his little sister all dolled up as a flower girl? Well, that was a nice bonus.

Even better than the bachelor’s party Roxy had thrown for him the night before, but he was still trying to remember all of that.

Daisy stepped up to walk down the aisle, JB at her side to serve as the ring bearer. The rows were mostly lined with Kingsman agents and personnel, all watching as his sister plunged her hand into the basket to sprinkle some petals just behind the last row before taking a step forward.

Then she upended the basket, letting the rest of the petals fall before just dropping it completely.

He was trying not to snicker, knowing better than to look at Harry because then he’d really lose it, and honestly this couldn’t be more perfect. She was adorable, and she made this all, somehow, incredibly, real.

Then some woman he didn’t really knew stood up and put a handful of petals back into the basket, trying to hand it back to Daisy so she could finish her task.

There was a split second of comprehension as Daisy took a shaky step backwards from the stranger, and by the time he could react it was too late.

“NO!”

JB was already in action, charging forward to protect the small girl, and he watched the woman fall backwards, legs flying up and her dress falling down, chaos breaking out almost in slow motion.


	8. Merhartwin, Eggsy as Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For dcderringer! This contains H/E/M or Harry/Eggsy/Merlin, and also world building nonsense!

"That will be all, you are dismissed." Guinevere cut her feed and the rest of the agents followed suit, Arthur cutting his before slouching back in his chair and looking over at his queen.

"You sure we can't just sit this one out and let MI5 take care of things for once?" 

He raised his hands in surrender as Roxy shot him a look. "Alright, I've got it, I've got it. I swear they'll expect us to wipe their arses next."

"Go home Eggsy," she ordered. "Who knows when you'll get to go home this early again, enjoy the time while you can."

"You don't got to tell me twice," he pointed out, standing up before offering her a hand. "You too, get some rest."

He'd almost made it to the door when she fell into step beside him. "And try to remind Harry he's retired. Or at least wear him out enough that he stays out of our way for the first couple of days."

"I'll give Merlin a few ideas," Eggsy said with a leer. Ordinarily he'd have smirked at the face she made but today he was already thinking about those suggestions, and trying to decide which ones he'd demonstrate tonight.

\---------

The lack of diversity among the Kingsman knights wasn't the only thing obsolete about the agency when he'd joined. But with the stunt Valentine had pulled, combined with him poisoning Arthur, there had been enough upheaval in what remained of the knights that Harry was able to make several changes in the few years he'd stayed on as Arthur.

Such as adding several new positions until their number no longer fit around a round table, and splitting his seat of power, giving Arthur a queen and co-ruler. Roxy had stepped into that role after a few years, and by the time Harry was ready to retire Eggsy had enough experience to fill his shoes, the youngest Arthur in recent memory.

But it wasn't until Harry had started going nuts being retired that Merlin had decided to stay home too, and they'd had to look for a replacement.

It was impossible.

Actually impossible.

Finally they'd changed the position into a department, M.E.R.L.I.N. Monitoring Espionage and Reconnaissance Live Intelligence Network. A few highly trained individuals that collectively managed to fill most of Merlin's shoes.

It had been weird for a while, but they'd adjusted.

And in some ways, he preferred having Harry and Merlin at home, waiting for him at the end of the day.

\---------

"It sounds to me like the agency could use all the hands you can muster." Harry's voice was low and seductive, his hand slowly sliding up Eggsy's inner thigh despite the fact that they'd just collapsed in a sweaty and tangled heap a moment ago.

"I think the agency likes those hands where they are," Eggsy countered, refusing to give into the sultry tone. Still the teasing touch was making it harder to remember why it was that he'd asked Harry to stay out of things in the first place.

He took in a quick breath, air hissing through his teeth as his eyes widened. Merlin had been fairly complacent beside him, and he should have known better. The bald man had taken advantage of his distraction, tweaking one of his nipples sharply, the twinge of pain bringing him back to reality.

"Fuck no Harry. You ain't coming in on this one."

Harry's hand disappeared and he scowled, sitting up and scooting higher up in the bed. "I mean it, if I even hear that you're in the bloody area I ain't blowing you for a month."

"Calm down." Merlin's voice was filled with barely contained humour. "So long as you check in regularly I'll make sure Harry behaves himself." He turned his attention on Harry. "And you should stop worrying so much. You know Roxy won't let him do anything too stupid."

"She _is_ good at keeping him in check," Harry admitted, and Eggsy had had enough.

"Oh bugger off, you know I ain't going to get into any scrap I can't finagle myself out of. Besides," his voice lowered and he eased back, leaning against the headboard, "you want to sit around worrying over my next mission or do you want to give me a good incentive to make it back?"


	9. That is my tie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, forgot to load this one the other day!

"That's my tie!"

Roxy looked up at his indignant squawk and simply raised an eyebrow at him. “And? We share things all the time, Eggsy.”

He scowled at her, noting the quirk of her lips. She already knew, and right now she was just being a bitch and trying to get him to say it out loud. “It doesn’t go with your bloody purse,” he muttered with a scowl, knowing better than to hope that she’d leave it at that.

“Thanks for pointing that out, you’re a real lifesaver. I’d better take my clutch!”

“Fuck you.” He scowled at her, watching her smirk grow into a full grin. “Shit, you know Harry gave me that fucking tie when I got inducted.”

“So you don’t want me to wear it to a meeting with him? I wonder why that could be.” She took it off, carefully hanging it back where it went rather than tossing it around, and for that at least he was grateful. “But seriously Eggsy, when are you going to do something about…whatever it is between you two? It’s getting ridiculous.”

“You’re going to be late, and Harry’s gets in a shit mood when people make him wait. It’s why he’s late to every fucking appointment he’s got.” It was a futile effort to avoid her question and he heard her sigh as she moved toward the door, pausing to turn and look back at him, eyes catching and holding his.

“If one of you doesn’t make a move soon I’m going to lose my bet. So just think about it. Are you more scared of telling Harry the truth when it’s obvious he’s smitten with you or me. I don’t have to tell you what I’m capable of.”

The door shut softly behind her, as if it was afraid of making too much noise, and he found his fingers moving before he could think about it, tapping out a text to Harry. _We need to talk._


	10. Hartwin, Hips, Dancing, Mission

"Just follow my lead," Harry had told him not all that many months ago, taking his hand and guiding him into a slow waltz around the room. It had been deemed a necessary skill for a Kingsman to know, so many of their missions involving formal events, and it made sense.

Missions like the one they were currently on were a lot less frequent.

The bass thrummed through the room, thumping in his chest until his heart gave in and settled to it's rhythm, pounding along with the beat. Harry looked almost tense, and Eggsy tried not to grin too much when he realized.

He stopped where they were on the dance floor, the older man almost running into him and, and reached back to put his hands on Harry's hips before he could move away, brushing off his stammered apology. He had a good view of their target from here, and a crowded club wasn't the best time to engage them. Instead he looked back and up, calling out so Harry could hear him over the music.

"Just follow my lead, yeah?"

He didn't really wait for a response, as he started moving with the music, melding his arse against the man's hips, a satisfied smirk fixing itself into place as he thought about how Harry would get him back when their mission was complete.


	11. Ballet, cufflinks, pillow, orchid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by fearlessjones on tumblr!

It wasn't often that he actually gave in and went to the ballet with Harry. The ballet was stupid really, their forms were graceful, yeah, he'd acknowledge that. And there was no fucking way he could do what those people did, but it didn't keep his attention. Once song was enough, sitting through hours of it felt like some odd sort of torture.

For special occasions he gave in, and honestly Harry didn't even ask him that often. When he went Harry tended to make it worth his while, though, so he tried not to complain too much.

Tonight the house was quiet as he got ready. He'd meet Harry there, so it was just him and JB, and sadly his dog wasn't the best conversationalist.

It didn't mean that he kept silent, keeping up a stream of soft muttering as he fastened on the cufflinks Harry had gotten him for their second anniversary, the gold gleaming as it caught the light.

"Shit, fuck," he grumbled as he glanced at his watch, the hands sitting there accusingly with the simple knowledge that he was almost late.

He pulled on his shoes, lacing them quickly and shrugging on his jacket, taking the steps two at a time to make it out the door.

\---------

The stop at the florist only took a couple of minutes, the arrangement of orchids a subtle blossom of colour in the seat across from him as he rode toward HQ.

He should have brought JB with him, Eggsy mused to himself. He could have left him in Merlin's office, he probably wouldn't have destroyed too much. As it was it was too late for that, he was closer than ever to HQ and he would be meeting up with Harry soon enough. He could deal with a lonely shuttle ride on his own, he’d done it countless times before.

It was only a few minutes past their appointed meeting time when he arrived, practically early compared to how late Harry tended to run, but he moved through the halls purposefully, nodding to individuals as he passed them. Harry was waiting for him though, so he didn’t stop for pleasantries.

The door loomed before him quickly enough and he knocked, an unnecessary gesture but one he kept nevertheless, Harry would chide him for being rude if he didn’t at least make an attempt to announce his presence.

He slipped into the room, mind conjuring up the greeting waiting for him, not even needing to look to know the small but pleased smile on Harry’s face, the glint in his eye that spoke of so much more than a simple greeting.

“Evening, Harry,” he called, spying a vase waiting for him and placing the bouquet in it, making sure the water level reached the cut stems and then fussing with it for a moment. “It’s almost time for the ballet to start you know,” carrying on the conversation, finally looking over.

The normal array of tubes and wires greeted him, though someone had clearly made some effort, combing his husband’s hair and bothering to clip on a bowtie. Merlin probably. He reached out, fluffing the pillow beneath Harry’s head, fingers drifting up to linger on his cheeks, the sunken in appearance a hint at the months Harry had been here.

“I went to the house this week to get the cufflinks you got me,” he added, eyes searching for a sign of movement beneath his eyelids, any twitch of movement that might be different than the ordinary. “I left JB there so I’ll have to go back, finishing airing the place out for when you’re ready to go home. I’ll fill you in later, the fucking ballet is about to start.”

He turned to search for the remote, fumbling for a few seconds to figure out the right buttons and where they were before he managed to get the recording pulled up, arranging a chair next to the bed as the first strains of music began.

Their fingers intertwined he sat there, eyes glued to the telly, voice inaudible over the orchestra. “Happy anniversary, Harry.”


End file.
